Favorite Characters: Chirrut Îmwe (Star Wars)

Rogue One is packed with new characters, and it nails so many of them so well, despite a busy story with a lot to do.  In a pretty great collection of the new favorites that were introduced here, Chirrut is my most favorite of all.  I am all about this badass Force-sensitive temple guardian from start to finish (a few spoilers.)

Let’s face it:  it would’ve been so easy for this character to have been a cliché.  The Asian guy playing the blind warrior monk whose awesome martial arts skills are boosted by his mystical Force powers?  Come on.  I mean, they cast Donnie Yen for a reason, so the martial arts were kind of a given, but for whatever reason, it was the blind part that put it over-the-top for me before I saw the movie.  I wouldn’t say I found it offensive, but I certainly found it convenient and tropey, and it did make me chuckle a little whenever I saw Chirrut in the promo spots – like, “A little on the nose, don’t you think, Disney?”

But that skepticism was greatly misplaced.  It’s true that Chirrut’s Force sensitivity allows him to “just know” stuff he shouldn’t (some things that a blind guy specifically wouldn’t know, some things that nobody would know,) that his fighting skills definitely flirt with the mystical, and that he’s the character voted Most Likely to Intone Something Profound about the Force.  But you know what else?  He’s also a person.

When I think about this type of character as a trope, I imagine someone who’s very non-specific, either a character solely there for the purpose of guiding/imparting wisdom to the hero or one who’s there to make cool fight scenes and nothing else.  I think of someone solem, deep, important, and, perhaps most significantly, humorless.  Being a blind warrior monk with awesome martial arts skils and mystical powers is serious business.

Chirrut, though, always zigs when I think he’s gonna zag.  Right from the start, he sets the hairs on the back of Jyn’s neck on end by correctly divining information about the necklace he shouldn’t be able to know she’s wearing, but he immediately lets the air out of the profound soothsayer thing by turning his abilities into a parlor trick, telling her she’s going to have to pay if she wants to know more.  He’s very deeply devoted to his faith, and it’s no joke to him, but he also knows that Baze thinks his devotion more-than-borders on ridiculous, and so Chirrut gets a kick out of aggravating him with it, such as when they’re captured and Chirrut is trying to pray their cell door open.  And, as funny as K-2 is, my biggest laugh of the whole movie is Chirrut’s indignant “Are you kidding me?!  I’m blind!!” when his captors put a bag over his head.

Don’t get me wrong – the action stuff is totally amazing in that particular-brand-of-impossible way this trope likes to rock.  Chirrut’s staff fight against the Stormtroopers is all kinds of cool, and him shooting that Imperial ship down is epic.  But throughout, even at his most mystically badass, we keep getting these small moments of warm, personability, and yes, humor.  Whether it’s bickering affectionately with Baze or just smiling softly as Jyn passes, Chirrut always remains grounded in humanity.  I feel like he’s a great answer to Marvel’s bull about having no choice but to cast a white woman as the Ancient One because an Asian man inevitably would’ve been a Fu Manchu and an Asian woman inevitably would’ve been a Dragon Lady.  Just because a character type or trope has a racial history doesn’t mean any character who aligns with it has no choice but to be racist.  It’s all in the execution, and by keeping focused on who the character is as a person and giving them a spark that’s all their own, you can create something really wonderful.

Relationship Spotlight: Chirrut îmwe & Baze Malbus (Star Wars)

With The Last Jedi coming up soon (and a recent rewatch of The Force Awakens in preparation!), it seemed like a good time to break out another Rogue One post.  Even among the many great things the film has going for it, I’d say the relationship between Chirrut and Baze is in a class unto itself (spoilers.)

In any story about a disparate group of insert-title-heres banding together to fight a common enemy, it’s good to have at least two people who come to the table already knowing each other – especially in a movie like this that only takes place over a few days.  Rogue One gives us Cassian and K-2 as well, and the plot momentum depends on Jyn’s connections to both Galen and Saw, but Baze and Chirrut are just everything.  We know very little about them, including what drew them together or how long they’ve known each other.  In terms of facts, what we have is that they’re both guardians of the Khyber temple on Jedha, Chirrut is deeply devoted to the Force, and, while Baze once had the strongest faith of all, he now scoffs at the religion of the Force.

But those are the facts, and there’s a lot more truth to be found between these two than can be limited to these basics.  The truth of it is, they’re inseparable.  It’s evident that Baze considers himself Chirrut’s protector, and more than once, they bicker fondly about whether Chirrut, in his more reckless moments, was safeguarded by the Force or Baze’s big gun.  It’s an interesting dynamic, because Chirrut is always quick to say that he doesn’t need Baze looking out for him when he has the Force on his side, but he welcomes Baze’s vigilance all the same.  I can’t tell if it’s pragmatism on Chirrut’s part – if he rationalizes that Baze may be one of the means by which the Force protects him – or if he simply knows that Baze won’t rest until he personally knows that Chirrut is safe, and who is Chirrut to deny Baze that (relative) peace of mind?

Their relationship is a nice mixture of good-natured ribbing and fierce dedication.  The “like an old married couple” back-and-forth between them bears out in more than just Baze getting on Chirrut about walking headfirst into danger when he can’t see.  It seems they’re forever disagreeing.  Baze rolls his eyes at Chirrut’s more out-there demonstrations of his faith, and Chirrut gives back as good as he gets, needling Baze that Chirrut’s prayers only bug him because he knows deep down that Chirrut is the one who’s right.  Chirrut is devoted, Baze faithless, Chirrut hopeful, Baze pessimistic. 

Throughout it all, though, through every winking remark from Chirrut and every begrudging sigh from Baze, is evidence of how they care for one another.  However it began, there’s no longer any path for these two that takes them down separate roads.  Baze can try and dissuade Chirrut from doing something dangerous, or even just something Baze doesn’t want to do, but if Chirrut can’t be convinced, Baze isn’t about to leave him to it.  Baze will go with him no matter what, and I think it might that more than anything – the dedication, not the firepower – that Chirrut truly needs from Baze.

As with Jyn and Cassian, the exact form that Chirrut and Baze’s relationship takes is up for debate.  Are they best friends, brothers-in-arms, lovers?  An argument could be made for any of these possibilities.  And if the latter is what the film has in mind, while I’d have preferred something less ambiguous, I do still love the dynamic between them and would be happy to claim them as the Star Wars universe’s first onscreen same-sex couple.  No matter what, they clearly love each other dearly, regardless of what shape that love takes; it would be impossible for two people to say goodbye to one another like these men and not feel the sincerest love.  In the end, Baze begs Chirrut not to die even as he chastises Chirrut for doing something so foolhardy, and Chirrut urges Baze to lean on the faith he once had, that they’ll one day find one another again in the Force.  As Baze rises, repeating Chirrut’s mantra while he himself goes out guns blazing, it seems evident that, if Chirrut believed in the Force, Baze believed in Chirrut.  What’s that if not love?